The Woman He Cannot Lose
by Ceara Einin
Summary: Caspian is torn between two women, and he is sure to lose one. But what of the other?
1. The Star and the Moon

**Alright, I wasn't going to post this until my Moonrose series was done, but since that story changes every other week I finally cracked. This may or may not have** **spoilers for Morelia - right now, it looks like it won't. I just had to get it up because I love this piece so stupidly much. Think of it as a Christmas surprise, for anyone who read Moonrose and shipped Rosian. I sure did, even though I wrote the damn thing and they don't end up together in canon. Since TIP is still a long way off from being posted, here's this Rosian thing in the interim.**

* * *

 **The Woman He Cannot Lose**

Caspian is a torn man. His heart is split two ways, divided between one happy life and another. He cares for them both, loves them both, can't imagine not loving them both.

Lilliandil is the most beautiful creature he has ever laid eyes on, with the purest soul in all the worlds. She is patient and ever kind, the embodiment of selflessness. She would be the perfect queen.

But Rose – Rose is selfless too, though that part of her must be earned. She is hard and cold at first, slow to trust and even slower to love. She has a temper, she is complicated, she has as many responsibilities as he does with no room for more. But once her trust – her love even – is given, there isn't a soul alive more loyal than she. Caspian knows with burning clarity that she will never leave him. He'll always be able to count on her counsel, her midnight escapades to her magical world. He will never lose her, no matter what he does. She proved that when she allowed a perfect stranger into her world with no hostility. Wariness, yes, but no spite.

He also knows she does not love him, not in that way at least. How can she? She's engaged now, as is he. He couldn't be happier for her, really.

Aslan help him, he can't help but love her. He loves Rose as a friend, as an equal, as a woman, and…as more. Caspian was sure that those years away from her would whisk away those feelings he knows she can't reciprocate. They didn't, and now he might be in love with two women. One, a lady of grace with the blood of stars in her veins. The other, a walled and cautious woman with little trust to give, trust somehow gifted to him nonetheless.

Perhaps that is why he feels as he does. Her trust and friendship were hard won over long years. It was never easy with her, has never been and probably never will be. Rose has many flaws. Lilli, perhaps, not so.

If Lilli has a flaw he can think of, it's simply being too good, too selfless, too giving to everyone else. Lilli is the type of woman to keep on giving of herself until there's nothing left. But the truly remarkable thing about Lilli is that she never seems to run out of love to give. Where Rose's love is rare and tentative, Lilli's bubbles over constantly, giving light to every soul she even glances at.

Caspian prays to Aslan constantly. He falls asleep praying for guidance and sanity, and wakes with the same entreaties dancing on his tongue. But the Great Lion has remained silent to his pleas, night after night, morning after morning. Caspian is rapidly approaching desperation; he can hardly bear to see Rose now, for fear that she'll see exactly what he's trying so hard not to feel, what he knows he never should feel. Caspian thinks she wouldn't appreciate his emotions toward her very much. She did, after all, pull away from his kiss all those years ago.

His lips tingle with the memory of what could have been. Would things be different now, if she had not backed away, had not whispered her denial across his mouth?

Caspian wishes very much that Professor Cornelius were still here. There's rarely a time he doesn't miss his old tutor, but in times like this the ache is especially acute. The Professor always had a knack for getting to the very bottom of things. Especially things about Rose.

Tonight, Caspian remains as tormented as ever, striding from one end of his chambers to the other, and back, then back again. Dinner has left him in an especially tumultuous mood – Lilli wanted to discuss another trip to see Rose, and Caspian could barely set plans. He feared Lilli too would see his feelings, perhaps even more than he feared Rose would. It wouldn't be fair to Lilli, it wouldn't. It would hurt her terribly. She would be ever gracious of course, but how can he do that to her after the long journey she made with him to Narnia? It would be horribly selfish of him to ruin things with Lilli after she's come all this way for him.

"Aslan, Aslan," Caspian murmurs, tortured by his own heart. "Tell me what to do."

As always, only silence greets him. Caspian sighs and resigns himself to another long night of restlessness. He hasn't been sleeping well of late, and that's not likely to change until this whole mess is sorted out. His heart is leaden in his chest as he climbs into bed.

* * *

Ahead, a light. Caspian squints in the face of it. His feet carry him toward it, the blinding white thing on the horizon. His steps don't echo like they should. He keeps on, and the light seems to grow as if to swallow him whole. But when he gets closer, the scent of lilies washes over him and there's no need to fear anything. A phantom wave from some unknown and yet familiar shore licks at his calves.

Then warmth. Sweet, golden warmth. It blinds him like the Lily Lake at the end of the world, but here there is no sweet water to make it bearable. Perhaps if he keeps moving, it'll let up.

One foot, then the other. Caspian shuffles forward with his right hand shielding his eyes from the painful brightness, and for a long while it seems as though the universe is now nothing but warm, blinding light, and it's always been so and will forever be so. Caspian's quite resigned by the time something snaps his attention away from his aching eyes. A hand softened by age and a lifetime shuttered indoors rests on his shoulder, and Caspian knows at once to follow where it leads. He would know the hand of his old Professor anywhere.

A groan and a light click sound right in front of him, and at once the light gives way to the crackling, bearable heat of a fireplace in a most familiar study. There are the grey stone walls, the rich brown drapes, the bookshelves, the hourglass and the rusted scale. But dearest of all, the organized clutter of precious tomes and ancient scrolls sprawled across the table in the middle, with a painting of the Kings and Queens of Old there on the top. Caspian breathes in the bookish smell of the place and greets his Professor with the widest smile he's had in weeks.

"Professor," he sighs, relieved at the familiar presence. "I've missed you much of late."

Professor Cornelius regards him with that beloved twinkle in his grey eyes. "As have I, my dear boy. You do not often venture here."

The Professor gestures to twin armchairs by the fire, rich and red and achingly familiar.

"I'm afraid I don't know where here is," Caspian answers honestly, plopping down into the closest chair in a more dignified heap than usual. "But I'm quite glad I've found it now."

Cornelius's mouth twitches under his beard – he's holding back a smile. "A guiding hand can make all the difference in the world." The old half-dwarf settles into the other chair and folds his hands over his belly, regarding Caspian with an expectant kind of scrutiny.

"Yes," Caspian muses, straightening in his chair. "Thank you."

Professor Cornelius smiles fully now, beard crinkling at the edges of his mouth as if to add to the merriment. "Out with it, dear boy. You've not come to sit idly, have you?"

Caspian's heart does a strange little jump. How he's missed this! He has to take a heavy breath and swallow the unexpected lump in his throat before summarizing his difficulty. He's sure that Professor Cornelius knows the whole thing already and only asked to help him sort it through. That was often his way.

"I suppose," he begins. Caspian clears his throat. "Well, that is…" Lion, it wasn't so difficult to admit it in his own head. He can surely say it to his oldest friend. "I believe I've fallen in love with Rosamar and Lilliandil," he finally blurts. Shame heats his cheeks.

"And now you are determined to choose one, hmm?" Cornelius merely states this, as if it's the simplest thing in the world. Guilt rises to join the shame painted across Caspian's face.

"It makes sense to love Lilliandil," he murmurs, suddenly quite fascinated with his hands. "But I can't ask her to be my queen when my heart also reaches for Rose."

"You are hesitant…I understand. But Rose," Professor Cornelius notes with a raised eyebrow. It's not unkind, but it makes Caspian want to squirm just the same. "You think she would not be receptive?"

Caspian stares at his boots. "I don't know." That is a lie. It sickens him, lying to his old tutor. "No," he amends. "But that's not the difficulty."

"Of course not," the Professor says, "but wouldn't that clarify the matter?"

There it is – the gentle prod to get Caspian thinking, really thinking. Why is it truly so difficult to let the idea of Rose go? He knows he won't lose her friendship, especially as she knows nothing of this.

Caspian swallows. "Perhaps she would, I can't be sure because I can't ask. That alone might jeopardize things."

"My dear boy, you are afraid to lose her."

Caspian frowns. Technically, he's afraid of losing either of them, or even both, but he feels quite sure that isn't what Professor Cornelius means. But he knows he won't lose Rose, doesn't he?

"It would not be the loss you imagine now." The Professor's voice has suddenly gone soft and sad. He must know something, he must see both paths and where they lead. Caspian almost asks how, exactly, he would lose Rose if not from lack of reciprocity, but he understands deep down that he isn't meant to know, at least not yet.

"What must I do?" The words fall from Caspian's lips like feathers to the floor. Amid all the confusion is the sudden, painful certainty that something awful will happen no matter what he chooses.

The Professor hesitates before peering over his spectacles and saying words Caspian never wanted to hear. "You must let go of the woman you cannot lose."

Caspian stares. He's supposed to let go of the feelings he clings to more? Lion, and he only just realized where his heart was pointing!

"Rose," he whispers, for of course it's Rose he cannot lose. They are kindred spirits, and though he loves Lilli very, very much, Rose is where his heart flies first. Caspian can't explain it, but now that the feelings are there there's little use in it anyway.

Caspian's head falls into his hands. "I don't understand."

Professor Cornelius takes a long time in answering. Really, he doesn't quite answer at all, but Caspian feels the comfort he tries to give.

They sit quietly by the fire until Caspian wakes.

* * *

Caspian doesn't understand what loss the Professor spoke of for many, many years. But when Rilian returns from that picnic with his mother's body cradled in his arms, Caspian realizes at last. Loss, in the bitterest sense, has come to him once more. The woman he cannot live without. The woman he cannot lose. Oh, but he was never prepared to lose the other!

Alongside the sorrow, bitter guilt takes its home in his chest. How could he have chosen this for Lilli? Taken by the fangs of a snake – she never deserved such an end! And he, merely mourning her and not grieving wildly as he should. He misses her, he can't comprehend not seeing her anymore, but shouldn't there be more – some incomprehensible feeling, some sort of death within himself?

Caspian weeps many nights for Lilli and for himself, and refuses all comfort. The only solace is that Rose is now half the country away and he cannot run to her.

* * *

Caspian's mourning is surpassed only by his son's. And when Rilian too is gone, vanished one day while seeking the serpent, Caspian loses what little sense he has left. He finds himself trying to blame Rose, he almost cuts Lord Drinian's head from his shoulders, he even comes near to cursing the name of Aslan. Nothing helps, and Caspian thinks that he well deserves to drown in his guilt and despair. He wrought this, did he not? Why shouldn't he suffer for it?

But Caspian gives himself a few days only to mourn and burrow into self-loathing, and then he writes to Rose for information about the snake. He loses himself to desperation for a few moments, there in the field that took his wife from him, but he pulls himself together remarkably well in the end. He leads the quest to find Rilian, for through Rose and Aslan he knows his son is alive. Though Caspian could not do right by Rilian's mother, he can perhaps still do right by his son. It's the only thing he can do for Lilli now.

* * *

Caspian festers in a quiet anger when Rose takes off and abandons the quest for Rilian with no explanation. A part of him wants to blame her, though he knows she must have a very good reason. But what reason could be more important than the family she promised to help him save? She still has her family, her Darin. Caspian has nothing. And so he goes on blaming her until he barges into her home and smells the kiss of death.

At once, he can't breathe.

Death, death, oh what has he done? How could he have let her slip through his fingers, right into the fangs of the monster? Caspian may well choke – some awful sound comes out anyway.

After that, he's lost to his raging anguish for Lion knows how long. It's the sort of pain that can never quite be explained or understood afterward, the kind that tears off bits of one's soul and tramples them into a pulp underfoot. The kind of agony he should have felt for Lilli. When he finally pulls himself together for the sake of his son, his knuckles are bloodied and his body is shaking. Rose's wall is covered in dents and cracks, her bed is flipped on its side, the nightstand is in pieces across the room. Caspian's throat is dry and scratchy like he's been screaming, but he doesn't remember anything so loud. Besides, no one came running into the house.

He's late for dinner. Eustace starts to tease him about it, but the moment Caspian shows his face the boy practically zips his mouth shut. Even Puddleglum is silent.

This time, Caspian cannot even call it grief, as he rages in his room late that night. This is something beyond grief, something worse even than losing Lilli. He has no name for this, nor does he think there is any name for it at all. This is the feeling of breaking and tearing and burning all at once, of losing all hope and watching everything he's ever cared for crumbling to pieces around him. Rilian is truly all he has left now. He should be sleeping, preparing to leave in the morning. So why does he still weep and smash every mirror in sight and swear by the name of every god he knows?

The woman he could not lose, now lost like all the rest.

* * *

She's alive.

She looks awful, like she's been dragged to Tash's country and back, but she's alive and she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Caspian races to her faster than he's run toward anything in his life, half sure she'll vanish into thin air as soon as he reaches her, solid proof of his slipping sanity.

She doesn't. She's real and she's here and, Lion, she's _alive_. Caspian almost lets his tears get the better of him when his arms close at last around her, but cold reality sets in when her arms don't rise to encircle him. Something's wrong.

So he pulls back reluctantly, though his hands still clasp her shoulders. He's terrified she'll vanish again. But when he finally gathers himself enough to look into her eyes, ice shoots from his belly to his boots. He knows that look, that shattered feeling all too well.

The awful truth sinks in at once – it wasn't Rose who died in that house. No, it was the person she loved the most. Darin is the one the snake stole away. How could he ever have blamed her for anything?

"Rose?" he whispers, his breath clouding in the air between them. Vaguely, he hears the children and the Marshwiggle approach, but he's not concerned with them right now.

At the sound of her name, Rose straightens so sharply that Caspian's hands slip from her shoulders. Somehow, he doesn't know how in Aslan's mane she does, but she tucks all that grief away from the world and faces him without a tremor.

"The Giant Bridge?" she questions.

Caspian has no idea what to say. How can she be thinking of the place she was to meet them now, when only a shell of her stares back at him and she should be worrying about anything but his troubles? Why did she even come back? She had every right to stay away and mourn.

"We were worried," he manages, staring down at her.

Now come his three other companions, and with their arrival Rose pulls the last of the pain from her face and steps away from him, heading north.

"Best not waste daylight, then."

To anyone else, Rose's voice is strong and unwavering. But Caspian can't miss the slight catch in "waste" or the tiny twitch in her left pinkie. She's holding herself together, yes, but it won't last forever.

It doesn't, and no matter what Caspian does, nothing soothes that pain always lurking just below the surface.

* * *

The quest for Rilian continues on, leading them into Giant country. They make it over the bridge, Jill and Eustace have a little misadventure at Harfang, and they make their way under the City Ruinous just as Aslan said. But it's empty progress. Rose doesn't want anything to do with him until they're sailing the Sunless Sea, lost in Underland with little hope of ever seeing daylight again. Ever since Caspian found her on the plains, Rose refused to speak to him at all unless to order him away, even during the long trek through the sunless lands with the Earthmen's wavering torches as their guide. Even now she doesn't speak, but she doesn't dismiss him when he sits beside her at the bow of the ship. Jill and Eustace have both gone to sleep, curled up like kittens on either side of Puddleglum. If there's a time to try reaching her, it's now, when his other companions won't overhear.

Caspian wishes there was something, anything he could do. Nothing he's done has broken this wall between them. Perhaps something about this dismal sea will change that.

"Darin's dead." Rose speaks at last, so quietly her words are nearly lost to the dark waves lapping at the bow.

"I know," Caspian blurts. It comes out a whisper, entirely too loud. "Rose, I'm so sorry."

Still no acknowledgement, but when Caspian takes her hand, she doesn't pull away.

* * *

When the quest is over, Rilian rescued and all of them safely back in Narnia, Rose returns home. She doesn't say whether home is Telmara or Tanssi Kuun, but Caspian knows by now not to ask. She's determined to weather this on her own, and he can't help her.

So he lets her go without any fuss, just watches her disappear into the night with the Winter Dance whirling on around him. His son is safe now, returned to him at last, but Caspian can't celebrate with the rest. Rilian offers to sit with him, but Caspian sends him back into the excitement with a father's fondness and keeps his vigil in solitude.

A small piece of him wonders if he'll ever see Rose again, but the larger pieces rest easy. Somehow Caspian knows he will, though it may not be for a long time. He promised her he wouldn't stand in her way, and he intends to keep that promise for as long as it takes. He'll miss her, he misses her already, but the important thing is that she's alive. Though letting her go feels very much like losing her, Caspian has faith it won't be forever. The rest, he leaves to Aslan.

And one day, sure as the dawn, she returns.

* * *

 **So am I just trash or do these two actually kind of work? (Hoping they work because Rose wants to expand this piece and I'm having trouble telling her no...)**


	2. Grief is a Shared Thing

**Okay so TWHCL was supposed to be a one-shot, but it just kept tugging at my mind. So here's to a two-shot that tbh might go on to a three-shot if my writing brain cooperates. Happy holidays and happy new year! Do drop a review if you can :)**

* * *

Rose has always prided herself on her practicality. When she first came to Telmara, she knew love had no place for her. If she's honest, Rose knew the moment Aunt told her of Tanssi Kuun. And just the same, love arrived. First, it came with Darin. Sweet, gentle, wonderful Darin who always stood by her without any questions. Darin was the only kind of man Rose could ever picture sharing Tanssi Kuun with, though he didn't end up being the only one. From the moment she met him, she trusted him. He helped her find the door; how could she not be grateful? And when she called him for aid, he ran to her side with unflinching loyalty. He never questioned her, never pushed her. He was her rock from the moment she met him. Now he is her star, winking down at her from the heavens as if to remind her that she will never truly lose him.

Some nights, she forgoes sleep just to stare up at him for those extra hours, as if looking up will take away the ache of sleeping alone. She grew used to his warmth over almost two decades, and after nearly a half decade of missing him she still can't get used to its absence. Rose makes sure to always notice the chill of empty space at her back, for if she forgets how warm he kept her it's like losing another piece of him, another memory tying them together.

On a very few of those nights, Rose remembers Caspian's warmth too.

During the quest for Rilian, Caspian ended up pressed behind her for warmth several times. Thankfully it was never in a bed and so Rose can convince herself that she didn't betray her husband. Yet, Bashar shows her that in her heart Rose hurts at the memory of someone else. If she and Caspian had not been more than friends all those decades ago, perhaps she'd think nothing of it. But they nearly fell in love, and so Rose cannot quite forgive herself.

In Darin's absence, Bashar becomes her rock. The faerie, the first she met, sees into her as no one else can. Much more than her heart, Bashar sees Rose's soul. They get in the habit of keeping vigil together at night and resting during the day when the moon's light drowns out the stars. This night, Rose is fighting a losing battle to stay awake, having gone without sleep for the past two nights.

"You need rest," Bashar says, encircling Rose with her ribbons. "Darin will still be there when you wake."

Rose draws her knees to her chest and rests her chin. "I know."

Bashar shifts, and a tickle starts deep in Rose's chest. It's a familiar strangeness – their souls are brushing, a skill they learned over years of closeness and accidental heart connections. Though at first Rose tried to keep her closest friend out, she's come to welcome this unique gift they have. Even Darin didn't know her as well as Bashar now does.

"There is no wrong in loving him, Rose."

Rose's breath catches. For years, ever since they realized Caspian's closeness at night meant a little too much, they've had a silent agreement never to speak of it. Bashar knows well how guilty Rose feels.

"I was vulnerable," Rose whispers. "It wasn't real."

"Yet your heart says otherwise." Bashar hesitates, and Rose's chest tingles again. "Go to him."

Rose jerks away as if burned. "And leave Darin again? No, Bashar. I'm never going back to Narnia."

"Narnia did not take him. Nor did Caspian. Don't punish him when he too lost his love."

Bashar's voice may be gentle, but the words cut deep into Rose's heart. The answering flare of pain Rose senses in Bashar is a mirror of her own.

Overwhelmed, Rose buries her face in her arms and trembles.

* * *

Three months later, Rose walks into the throne room at Cair Paravel.

Caspian's age shows as he rushes from his throne. His hair, only streaked with occasional grey during the quest, is now a more even mix of silver and black. Crow's feet extend from his eyes, and he moves a little slower than she remembers. Rose walks forward to make up the distance, though her feet hesitate to obey. When Caspian grasps her shoulders and looks her up and down, the new wrinkles of his hands draw her gaze.

"You're getting old," she says by way of greeting. "Your hands are wrinkled."

"It's good to see you," Caspian answers, as if she hadn't spoken so rudely. "How have you been?" Without waiting for a reply, he draws her into his arms, shaking as he holds her. Rose ignores his question; she doesn't trust herself to lie well enough.

"What about you? How is Rilian?" she asks in hopes of distracting him.

Caspian withdraws, and she wishes desperately she didn't miss his warmth. "He shall be king soon. As you said, I'm getting old." The crow's feet deepen around his eyes.

Rose smiles in return. "He has much to live up to."

Warmth floods Caspian's eyes, still as rich a brown as in his youth. Rose has to look away before her familiar guilt consumes her. Even this small happiness of seeing Caspian again is painful.

"Come," he says. "I'll show you to your room." Looping her arm through his, Caspian begins to walk. Surprised, Rose follows along mutely at first. Only when they're passing through the throne room's side door does she come to her senses.

Digging in her heels, Rose jerks to a stop. "Caspian, I'm not sleeping here," she says in a sudden panic. "I can't, I have to…" Something, she's got to do something, or be somewhere, anywhere but here, because how can she sleep where she can't see the stars? Even a night sky without Darin is better than a dismal ceiling.

"Surely you can't mean to leave so soon?" Caspian asks, nearly stuttering over the words. "You've traveled so far, you must be exh-"

"I'm fine, I'll be just fine. I only came to say hello." Rose's hands shake, and a terrible throbbing stars in her head. Warm, wrinkled hands wrap around hers, stilling them. "There's a glass roof."

Rose stills. "A glass roof?" she echoes.

"So you can see the stars."

Moisture pools in her eyes, and Rose is powerless to stop the overflow. Embarrassed, she swipes at her cheeks with the backs of her hands. "How did you know?"

With a heavy smile, Caspian begins to walk again, guiding her along with a gentle hand at her elbow. "I didn't."

When Caspian stops in front of a pale door painted with a moon mural, Rose tugs free once more. "It's a terrible bother, to prepare a room without notice – "

Caspian palms the door open. Before her is a room with a freshly made bed, wildflowers on the bedside table, and a polished glass roof. And the walls are covered in murals of pine trees. He's brought Tanssi Kuun to her.

"I wanted to be ready, in the event of your return."

Rose purses her lips to stop their trembling and fights the urge to face him. "You couldn't have known I would," she chokes out.

From behind, Caspian wraps a gentle arm around her shoulders and holds her so tightly she can feel his heartbeat. "I hoped."

* * *

Though she thought to stay only a few hours, Rose remains at Cair Paravel for well beyond a week. Bashar predicted as much; the faerie promised Rose she'd be fine looking after Tanssi Kuun for a week at least, and repeated several times that even a month was quite possible. Rose brushed off her friend's reassurances at the time, but now they soothe her worries when she lies in bed at night, staring at the stars.

Caspian rarely lets her out of his sight. She takes all her meals with him and Rilian, and after the a few days the three of them are as comfortable together as if they've been supping every day for years. Rilian is much like his father was in his twenties – measured, wise, too responsible for his own good. But he has a boyishness about him beyond what Caspian ever had. Even his time with the witch didn't dim the youth in his smile nor the mirth always twinkling in his eyes – blue, like his mother's. He laughs often, and Rose finds sadness impossible in his presence. Rilian lights up any room, and Caspian is never happier or more alight with youth than in his son's presence.

But after their dinners, Rilian excuses himself to his study, giving Rose and Caspian much-needed time alone although they never asked him to. He simply understood.

Every night since Rose arrived, she and Caspian spend hours in her room on ladders. Caspian holds the paint while Rose maps Tanssi Kuun's stars onto the glass in brilliant color. She asked Caspian for the paint on her second evening here, and ever since they've settled into a comfortable, silent ritual.

Now, on her seventh night, the mural is complete with every star she's memorized but one.

Rose pauses on her ladder, pushing the paintbrush handle behind her ear and resting her elbows on the ladder's tip. Beside her, Caspian fights a yawn. He always tries to hide it when he gets tired, and Rose always waits a few minutes after that telltale sign to fake her own yawn and descend back to the floor. Tonight, Rose glances over and smiles ever so slightly.

"It's all but done. Perhaps we should get some sleep." No matter that this is nearly an hour earlier than usual. Rose needs to put up that final star alone.

Caspian meets her gaze. Though his eyes are as gentle and warm as ever, Rose has never felt so exposed in front of him. Silently, he descends the ladder and sets the golden paint on the floor. Rose is moments behind him on her own ladder, struggling to come up with their usual goodnight.

But Caspian plucks the dirty brush from her ear the moment her toes touch the floor and drops it into the small pail of water on the dresser nearby. He picks up a clean brush, the same size, returns to her, and wordlessly places it in her hand. For a moment, their hands clasp together with the brush between their palms, then Caspian's hand is gone and so is he.

"Thank you," Rose whispers to the empty room.

She moves her ladder just a bit and ascends to the ceiling once more, a cup of green paint in her hand and the clean brush held between her teeth. Rose sets the paint on top of Caspian's ladder, dips her brush, and fills in the final star.

Rose does not sleep until dawn, but her heart is somehow lighter. She clasps the two pendants around her neck to her heart all night, and her eyes never leave Darin's star.

When at last she awakens the sun is glaring through her ceiling, announcing midday mercilessly against her eyelids. Though her stomach complains, Rose does not join Caspian and Rilian for lunch. Instead, she drinks in the warmth of the sun and stares at the emerald green star, the last piece of Tanssi Kuun's sky to finish the map. She's never seen him during daylight before, much less under Narnia's sun.

Rose always loved the moonlight, but Darin longed for the sun. Summer sun was his favorite, though his smithing was most miserable in the muggy heat. Darin didn't care; his most treasured moments were stolen afternoons with her in the plains outside Telmara, soaking up the summer heat and snacking on fruit and bread beneath a cloudless sky.

Rose slips between daydreamed memories and naps until the sun sinks to the horizon, emblazoning the Narnian sky in brilliant reds and oranges and purples. Rose rises at last from bed, stretching as she considers the skyscape. This is one thing Narnia has over Tanssi Kuun – sunsets. Moonsets are stunning, but Narnian sunsets are richly colored in the way only sunlit worlds can be.

When the sky above darkens to more blues and purples than rusts and reds, Rose changes and makes her way to the small dining room where Caspian and Rilian await her.

She pushes the wooden door open quietly and finds father and son buried deep in discussion – something about Ettinsmoor by the sounds of it. Rilian glances up with a smile as she enters, but he finishes his conversation with Caspian as she closes the door and takes her usual seat. By then, they've agreed to send a well-armed diplomatic team to the Giants and greet her with reserved hellos.

Rose returns their greetings, but her stomach announces itself far too loudly and the uncertainty in the room breaks into mirth. For all the complicated workings of her heart, Rose can't help but laugh with them.

"Perhaps the next time you skip a meal, I shall deliver it to you and appease your poor stomach," Rilian laughs, his shoulders shaking as his rich blue eyes dance.

Rose chuckles gratefully. "Perhaps you shall," she agrees.

The trio passes a gentle evening together. For all the lightness Rilian brings, tonight a fragility hangs in the air, something all of them seem to sense. Rilian's laugh is a few moments shorter than usual, and Caspian doesn't smile as easily. And Rose, Rose can hardly decipher herself. She chuckles and smiles and nods and hums when she should, but something winds tighter in her chest with every tender bite of pheasant that passes her lips. The knot tugs tighter whenever she meets Caspian's soft eyes across the table.

When the meal is done and they all lick the last of the honey from their sticky bread dessert off their fingers, Rilian lingers.

"I believe I should draft the diplomatic points for our team," Caspian says through the napkin patting the stickiness from his lips. "I won't be long." Caspian hugs his son and squeezes Rose's shoulder on his way out. Rose watches him leave, careful to school her face into vague curiosity.

When she turns back to Rilian, the blue-eyed prince is offering her his arm and smiling those six inches down at her. "A turn in the gardens, my lady? I believe the poppies have just begun to bloom."

Rose accepts his arm. Now that her painting is finished, she'll welcome the variation in routine. She chatters with Rilian about the state of the royal gardens and debates the merits of red versus yellow poppies as that brittle thing in the air starts to fade.

"Yellow most certainly catches the sunlight best," she insists with a grin that pulls at her chapped lips. "And the sunsets too!"

"Ah, but red mirrors the sky at sunrise!" Rilian tosses back. "What better color than one to match the sky's most brilliant hours?" He smiles toothily, as if he's won the debate.

Rose shoulders open the doors to the garden, comforted at once by the babble of water fountains. "Perhaps both are best," she compromises. "Red at the edges and radiating into the center, and yellow everywhere in between."

Rilian taps his index finger against his chin as he follows her into the castle's corner of paradise. He suddenly beams, clasping her hand where it rests on his arm. "A brilliant plan, my lady! I shall ensure the gardeners do just that next season."

"Rilian, how many times must I remind you," Rose asks with a playful shoulder nudge. "It's just Rose."

Rilian chuckles and says nothing as he guides them to a simple stone bench amid a smattering of flowering ivy. Rose sits after he does, and something somber settles between them.

"Rose," Rilian begins, wetting his lips as he stares into the setting sun. He hesitates, his knuckles white on his right knee as he clutches at his pants.

Rose slips her hand from his arm to rub soothing circles into his back. "Some things don't need to be said," she offers gently. She knows too well what it is to say things one doesn't want to; she wishes Rilian did not have to know.

But Rilian shakes his head vigorously, his blond curls dancing across his broad forehead. "No, but this does." He shakes out the hand grasping his knee and clears his throat. "I never got to thank you, for questing to find me. My father was seeking his child and heir, Jill and Eustace were here by Aslan's command. You didn't have to seek me with them. But you did." Rilian's voice trembles, skittering into the air between them on fragile wings. "My father told me, what it cost you. I…I'm so sorry."

At once, the guilt in Rilian's young face is too much to bear. Rose's heart trips over painful beats of grief, but she turns Rilian to face her and speaks past the bubble in her throat. "Finding you cost me nothing," she tells him firmly. "I did not lose my husband because I was seeking you."

Rilian opens his mouth, but she stops him with a firm shake of her head. "I didn't, Rilian. He was lost to me for other reasons entirely." Rose softens in spite of the ferocity with which she would purge him of this sorrow for her. "You have nothing to feel guilty for," she murmurs with wet eyes.

Caspian's son breathes shakily once, twice. But at last the weight behind his eyes lightens, and he swoops forward to hug her. "I thank you."

Rose's tears spill over, but she smiles as the iron cage of grief slowly weakens around her heart.

* * *

When she returns to her room, Rose finds Caspian waiting for her by the door. To most anyone, he hides his nerves well; but Rose sees his too-straight shoulders and lightly puckered brow straightaway.

"I told him he has nothing to feel guilty for," she says the moment she's within earshot. "And he doesn't."

Caspian's shoulders visibly relax as relief slackens the tight lines in his face. "Thank you. He needed to hear as much." With quicker steps than she's come to expect, Caspian strides forward and sweeps Rose into a tight hug, squishing her almost to the point of pain. Regardless, she squeezes him just as tightly.

When he releases her, both their eyes are swimming. Silently, Rose takes his hand and leads him into her finished room. She stops right beneath that final green star, the brightest of them all and dares to look at him.

"I finished, last night," Rose whispers. "Thank you."

Caspian's hand is warm and steady in hers, but when he tears his eyes from the painted replica of her Darin, his cheeks are wet. He brushes her cheek with tender fingers, reverently, as if the moment will shatter when either of them breathes.

His fingers are warm. A warm shiver rushes up Rose's spine as her heart reaches for…something. Something grand and frightening and far beyond what Rose will name right now. But she finds herself smiling as she breathes in the moment, and for all their apprehension, it doesn't crumble when she exhales and Caspian follows suit.

They spend the evening lying on Rose's bed and staring at the ceiling, tracing constellations with their fingers in midair and naming the ones they know. Caspian knows the ones she painted, too.

In the deep hours of the night when Caspian snores beside her, Rose wonders if it is finally time to bring Caspian back to the world that brought them together. And when she wakes to an insistent sunrise and Caspian's hand clasping hers, she decides.


End file.
